


Giants

by inoubliable



Series: Skin&Earth [8]
Category: IT - Stephen King
Genre: Angst, Boys In Love, Boys with feelings, Foreshadowing, M/M, Misunderstandings
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-11-23
Updated: 2017-11-23
Packaged: 2019-02-05 21:10:42
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,658
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12802458
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/inoubliable/pseuds/inoubliable
Summary: Eddie Kaspbrak is seventeen years old. He has plans to go to college. Richie... doesn't.--"I need you to listen," Richie says in a rush as soon as Eddie answers the phone. He seems convinced that Eddie is either going to hang up or talk right over him. "I'm sorry, okay?" There's a pause, and Eddie thinks maybe that's all Richie is going to say, but then he goes on, even faster than before. "I don't want to go to college. I don't want to leave Derry. I thought I would, you know? I thought I would want to get out of my house, and get the hell out of this town, but I don't. I just want things to stay how they are. I know they can't, but I just... I don't..." His voice breaks, and so does Eddie's heart. "I don't want to lose you, Eds."





	Giants

**Author's Note:**

> "Are you getting tired of hanging around here?  
> Is it bringing you down?  
> We've been talking about how we get enough here,  
> if we got out of town."  
> -[Giants](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=8Wljx0Cz9-c), Lights

Eddie Kaspbrak is seventeen years old.

He's at the local diner. It's a little early for the usual dinner crowd, so it's mostly empty, and Eddie is in the corner booth farthest from the door. Richie is across from him, a milkshake and a basket of fries on the table between them. The fries are mostly cold remnants at this point, and the shake is mostly melted. Beads of condensation roll down the side of the frosted glass. Eddie watches their slow descent, avoiding Richie's eyes.

They're having The Talk.

That's what Richie calls it. The Talk, capitalization implied. It isn't the first time Eddie has brought it up, but it's the first time he's managed to trap Richie into sticking around. Most of the time, Eddie mentions it at school, where Richie will just escape to his next class, or he'll bring it up when Richie sneaks into his bedroom, where Richie will just turn over and pretend to sleep. Now, though, there's a milkshake to consider. Eddie doesn't have the money to pay for it if Richie leaves, and they both know it. So Richie drums his fingers against the vinyl booth seat and stays.

"I'm just saying," Eddie starts, not for the first time, "it would be smart if you-"

"If you wanted someone smart, you should have dated Stan," Richie interrupts, bristly and irritable. It isn't even a fair thing to say, because Richie is hands-down the smartest person Eddie knows. It's why he's so adamant about this.

"I could help you apply," he says earnestly, reaching for the hand Richie's using to half-heartedly sort through the French fry remains. Richie pulls away.

"I don't need _help._ " He says the word like it's dirty. Eddie tries not to flinch back. He should be used to this. It's how Richie always gets, when he feels trapped. Besides, Richie seems to instantly regret it, rubbing a hand over his face. He looks tired. "Sorry, Eds. Can we just... talk about something else?"

Eddie picks at his nails, staring at them hard. "If we keep talking about something else," he says, his voice low and wavering, like he's on the verge of tears. He refuses to cry. "Then we're going to run out of time."

Richie exhales noisily through his nose, an angry, frustrated sound. "What does that even fucking mean? There's not a time limit."

"The deadline for applications is in two we-"

"I meant for _us_ , Eddie." Richie's voice is very quiet, and it's so out of character that Eddie looks up. But Richie isn't looking at him, staring out the window instead, his entire body tensed. He isn't fidgeting at all. "We don't have a time limit." His face sort of... crumbles, then, and he glances at Eddie, looking very vulnerable. "Do we?"

"Of course not." Eddie reaches for Richie's hand again, and this time Richie doesn't pull away. "No, that's not what this is about. I just want you to-"

"You want me to go to college." Richie makes it sound like it's the worst idea he's ever heard.

Eddie nods, a little helplessly. "What's so wrong with that?"

"Not everyone has to go to college, Eds." Richie's voice has a tense, bitter edge to it. "Someone has to sell tickets at the Aladdin or work the fryer at McDonald's."

Richie doesn't even do either of those things now. "Stop being ridiculous."

"Only thing I know how to do, Eddie Spaghetti." And there it is, that's what this is really about. Richie is so convinced that he's not good at anything, that he really is just Trashmouth Tozier and therein lies his entire existence. Eddie shakes his head emphatically, but doesn't argue the point. That's the only conversation Richie will shut down faster than The Talk.

"Don't you want to come with me?" Eddie says instead, a little desperately.

Richie's mouth turns down. "That's not fair."

Eddie does not give one single fuck about fair. "Well, _don't_ you?"

"You know I do." Richie looks at the tabletop, at their joined hands. He rubs his thumb over Eddie's knuckles, a familiar path, almost like a nervous habit. "You fucking know I do."

"So _do_ it."

Richie inhales sharply and Eddie is so sure that he's going to pull away again, that he's going to stand up and just leave, but he doesn't. He looks up, and his eyes are a little glassy behind his thick lenses.

"Eds," and he sounds so helpless, so heartbroken, that Eddie's actually crying now without even hearing what Richie has to say. "I can't."

Eddie doesn't know what it would feel like to actually break up with Richie, but he imagines it can't be worse than this. He tugs his hand free and slides out of the booth. Richie calls after him, but he locks himself into the bathroom and doesn't even think about germs when he slides to the floor, hands balled desperately against his eyes as if that's going to staunch the flow of tears.

He allows Richie to drive him home, but the ride is silent, and he's out of the car before Richie can fully slow to a stop.

He locks his bedroom window for the first time in five years. It doesn't matter. Richie doesn't try to get in.

The rest of the week passes in a sort of fog. He doesn't share any classes with Richie, which is an inconvenience when they're not fighting but a blessing now. None of their friends even seem to notice that they're avoiding each other. The other Losers are all focused on their own school year. They're all a semester away from graduating, and academics are more important than ever - to everyone except Richie, apparently.

Eddie doesn't sleep well. He doesn't have much of an appetite. He has the thought, one night, that he handled It better than he's handling this, and it makes him irrationally angry, so angry he slams his hand against his desk. It aches so badly that he's convinced he broke something, which only reminds him of the time he broke his arm in the Neibolt house, when Richie had clutched his face and distracted him from the terrible thought that he was going to die.

It's no use. All he can think about is Richie Tozier.

Richie calls him that very night, like he feels the same way, like maybe all he can think about is Eddie Kaspbrak.

"I need you to listen," Richie says in a rush as soon as Eddie answers the phone. He seems convinced that Eddie is either going to hang up or talk right over him. "I'm sorry, okay?" There's a pause, and Eddie thinks maybe that's all Richie is going to say, but then he goes on, even faster than before. "I don't want to go to college. I don't want to leave Derry. I thought I would, you know? I thought I would want to get out of my house, and get the hell out of this town, but I don't. I just want things to stay how they are. I know they can't, but I just... I don't..." His voice breaks, and so does Eddie's heart. "I don't want to lose you, Eds."

"You're not losing me," Eddie says immediately, firmly, like he hasn't spent the whole week convinced their relationship is over.

"You say that now." Richie's voice is low and tremulous. "But you're going to college. You're gonna meet all these cool people, and learn all these cool things, and you're going to forget all about this stupid town. You're gonna forget all about me. And that's what scares me the most."

Eddie remembers being thirteen and realizing what true fear felt like. He remembers realizing that there are scarier things than the monster under the bed. He remembers thinking that loving Richie Tozier was the scariest thing that could happen to him.

He realizes now that he was wrong. Losing Richie is scarier.

"I could never forget you," Eddie promises. He believes this without a shadow of a doubt.

Richie doesn't say anything for a moment, but his breathing sounds a little funny. He's crying.

"We can make this work," Eddie insists. "Even if I go to New York. Even if you don't leave Derry. People do it all the time, right? The long distance thing?"

"You want to?" Richie sounds genuinely surprised. "You want to stay together, even if you leave?"

"You idiot." Eddie's voice is a little sharp, but it's not his fault Richie is being stupid. "I want to be with you forever, don't you get it? I love you."

Richie inhales sharply. They don't say it often, and Eddie can't for the life of him remember why. He never wants Richie to sound so shocked by it again. He'll say it ten million more times if he has to.

"I love you, too," Richie says, voice thick. "God, I love you."

And then he's crying, and Richie's crying, but Eddie still feels better than he has all week. Richie loves him. He loves Richie. That's all that matters. They can figure the rest out.

They're both quiet for a long time, collecting themselves, before Richie finally says, "Hey, Eds?"

"Yeah?"

"This long distance thing is gonna be hard."

Eddie sighs, shakily. "Yeah."

A pause. "We're not going to have sex for _months_."

"Is that _really_ what you're thinking about right now?"

"I think about having sex with you every second of the day," Richie says, very seriously. Eddie rolls his eyes, but he's grinning. Richie goes on. "We're gonna have to do it like this. Over the phone."

Eddie tries not to laugh, he really does. "How would we even do that?"

"I'll teach you. We can start now. What are you wearing?"

Eddie actually laughs, then, loud and helpless. "I hate you, Trashmouth."

"No, you don't."

"No," Eddie sighs, sounding very pleased about it. "I don't."

**Author's Note:**

> Come yell at me on [tumblr](http://namingtheruins.tumblr.com). I need someone to cry about this series to.


End file.
